


Premonition

by Sundial_at_Night



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Brothers, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie is a Good Bro (Marvel), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, No Slash, No Smut, One Shot, POV Thor (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Thor (Marvel), Revelations, Team Bonding, The Revengers are good bros, The Statesman, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundial_at_Night/pseuds/Sundial_at_Night
Summary: “Look around that corner again,” said Loki,“very carefully.”Bruce, being the closest to the corner, peeked around, sawsomething,then jumped backwards with a curse. “We’re dead,” he declared to the group. “We’re dead. We need to get off of this stupid hunk of rockright now.”Thor heard Loki’s quiet, “Agreed,” as he looked around the corner himself. It took a moment, but then he saw it. There were two Chitauri soldiers standing guard in the cavern.“Damn it,” he swore.Or:TheStatesmanis low on fuel, the Revengers stop at a trading outpost to get some, and run into problems.—Set between Ragnarok and IW.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Loki, Bruce Banner & Thor, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Loki (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Revengers Team - Relationship
Comments: 27
Kudos: 352





	Premonition

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess, but I had fun writing it. Not entirely canon compliant. But mostly. Enjoy!

“We are low on fuel,” said Heimdall, golden eyes focused straight ahead. He was staring out the window, face as unreadable and stoic as ever.

Thor just nodded shallowly. He had been hearing that same message over and over again for the past week. They were low on fuel. He _knew that._ The _Statesman_ was sturdy, a decently solid ship that had been used to transport cargo on and off Sakaar. Save for the gaping hole in the hull that needed to be repaired after their quick escapade from Asgard, there was very little that was wrong with it. 

_Except_ for the Fuel Problem.

Twenty jump points out of Asgard, they were still far away from any inhabitable planets on which they would be able to restock their food or water supplies. Those would become capital ‘p’ problems eventually, but first, _fuel._

Loki had had the foresight to take medical supplies with him, along with money and food and water. Valkyrie had said stealing from the Grandmaster made him ‘the stupidest genius in the galaxy’. He shrugged it off, but even Thor had to agree. He had taken _money,_ but not fuel. So, Asgard had the funds to spend money on fuel at any trading station they came across, but they could not stagger into a trading post to pay for it.

Hence, the Fuel Problem.

“I know,” Thor sighed, letting his head drop. He shifted around, looking between the occupants of the _Statesman’s_ bridge. The whole team was there, trying to figure out some way around the Fuel Problem that had been plaguing their every move for three weeks. “What’s the nearest outpost again?”

“Ursa-Twelve,” answered Heimdall. His gaze flickered over the window of the bridge, looking to stars and planets and everything else. Anticipating Thor’s next question, he continued: “We do not have enough fuel to get there.”

“What about a shuttle?” Loki suggested. He was leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest, eyes glued to the table in the centre of the room. “Could a smaller ship make it to Ursa-Twelve and return with fuel?”

Thor rubbed his fingers over his chin, pondering the idea. It could work. They would be gone for a day or two, maybe less, and return with the fuel cells needed to get them to the next planet. If all went well, they would be in and out with their needed supplies. “It might work.”

Bruce looked up from his calculations, which were splayed all over the large circular table on whatever pieces of paper they could find around the ship. The computers were all programmed in common languages, Xandarian, Kree, etcetera. So, without a translator or Allspeak, Bruce was stuck with the old-classic pen and paper, rendering the computers lining the walls useless. “I think so,” he said somewhat hesitantly, “but your space math is weird.”

“You can use one of your seven PhDs.”

“Again,” Bruce sighed, exasperated, and fidgeted with the edge of the too-big shirt he had been given by one of the Asgardians aboard. “None of them are for _flying alien spaceships.”_ He threw his hands up dramatically. “I don’t even know if any of this is right. I mean, you space guys use a base twelve number system.”

“Which is?”

“In most human languages, when we count and get to ten, we add another digit.” Bruce drew a single line and a circle to the right on the piece of paper nearest to him. Allspeak translated the symbols to what Thor recognized—the number ten—but he could still see the shapes. “In your wacky alien math standard… _thing,”_ Bruce complained, eyebrows furrowing, “you add another digit at _twelve._ Meaning, I have to switch all of this around.”

Loki pushed away from the wall, gracefully walking around, and taking a seat at the table with his back to the window. “I could look it over if you would like,” he offered.

“Uh-huh.”

Thor could not see his brother’s face from where he was standing beside Heimdall, but he swore he could feel Loki’s eye roll. He heard papers shuffle and assumed that he was checking the math. “What else can you see of Ursa-Twelve?” Thor asked Heimdall quietly.

The Gatekeeper tilted his head, and replied: “It is not dissimilar from other outposts. There are gangs of mercenaries and dark and dangerous corners. A place of thieves and crooks.”

 _Of course,_ thought Thor, _because no trading post can simply be friendly and peaceful._ A planet might be, however. They could refuel, perhaps even at a lowered cost if they happened to have associated with Asgard in the past. Loki would know. 

Yes, he would.

Posing as Odin for _four years—_

Thor would have to ask him about that later.

But for now; “So, take caution?” he filled in, and Heimdall nodded in acknowledgement.

A moment later, Loki leaned back in his chair and declared in acknowledgement: “You are not unskilled at this, Doctor Banner.” Thor thought he almost sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Thanks,” Bruce muttered dryly, sliding the papers back over to his side.

“So, there’s enough fuel?” asked Thor, sitting at the table on Bruce’s left, opposite to Loki. The chairs were made of stiff metal, and were remarkably uncomfortable. The back was too straight and there was not enough space to sit on as an _actual_ chair. It was like all the furniture on the _Statesman_ had been made with a different species in mind, which was probably the case, considering that it was Sakaar.

Who knew what happened on that trash heap?

Well, the Valkyrie probably— _Val,_ as they had come to call her. She had not yet offered her name.

And Loki would know too, because of course, he would. He was trying to take over the planet a few weeks after landing (seriously, could he just _not_ for once?).

“There is,” Bruce replied, dragging Thor’s attention back to the matter at hand. The Fuel Problem. “But who’s gonna go?”

The Valkyrie staggered over from where she was slouching in the corner, the shorter blue cape of her Sakaaran wear swaying behind. There was a bottle of some brown Sakaaran liquor in her left hand, and her right hand was resting on the Dragonfang at her hip. “I’ll go,” she said, half-slurring the words. It looked as if she was about to fall over by how much she was swaying on her feet.

“So, we can find you passed out in some shady bar in the middle of the mission?” Loki snarked, squinting at her. Thor found himself agreeing. Her drinking _was_ a problem, and he vaguely wondered if she only wanted to go to secure a refill of her stash.

“‘We’?” she challenged and looked—Thor wanted to say—gratified at Loki’s withering expression. “So, you’re going?” The Valkyrie rested the bottle on the table and slumped into the chair on the far end.

“It makes sense,” Loki argued smoothly.

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Bruce is rather intelligent for a human, but we all know what could happen should something go wrong.”

Thor hated to admit it, but he had a point. A Hulk-out on a small trading post was the last thing they would need. 

“And brother,” said Loki, turning to face him, “you are the King of Asgard; your safety cannot be risked on such a mission.”

Thor bristled at that. Sure, he was the King now, and needed to be protected—no more reckless journeys across the Nine in search of adventure. If something happened to him, it would leave Asgard in the hands of _Loki,_ and as much as he was proud of his brother for returning to Asgard in their time of need, it was _Loki._ The Nine Realms fell to complete chaos under his rule, which Thor still had not gotten around to talking about.

They would need to do that at some point. _Talk._ But every time he tried, Loki avoided him, deflecting his questions with half-answers that changed the subject without Thor realizing he had done so until after he left. It was absolutely _infuriating;_ made Thor want to throttle him sometimes.

Loki continued without missing a beat: “Heimdall’s sight is invaluable, and the Valkyrie would likely cause more problems than she would solve.”

Val looked offended, eyes narrowed and scathing. “And you wouldn’t?”

“No.”

“You’re the one who forgot to get fuel in the first place,” Thor added with a slight glare at his brother. They would not be in this mess if it wasn’t for Loki. Thor himself wouldn’t be in a _lot_ of messes if it wasn’t for Loki. Then again, he would also have been in quite a difficult situation with getting off Asgard after Malekith’s attack without him. And getting off Asgard after Hela. It was complicated, a jumbled mess of ‘should have’s and ‘could have been’s; he didn’t know anymore.

“I was a little busy _writhing on the floor._ I got what I _could_ and got out. Any longer, and we may not have _had_ a ship to escape with.”

Point.

Thor sighed deeply, supposing that the situation was also partially his fault. But Loki tried to betray him. Again. So… it was complicated. He could play the blame game in his head forever and ever, going in circles about what was whose fault. It didn’t matter anymore. He tried to bring them (and himself) back on topic: “So, who’s going?”

“All of you,” Heimdall answered, facing them, and four confused heads turned in his direction. “It makes little sense for any of you to go alone. Loki may be skilled with words, but—”

“You don’t trust me,” he cut in seamlessly.

“There is that, yes,” Heimdall granted, and Loki inhaled sharply. “But also, it would not be safe for any of you to go by yourselves. Your Majesty, you are king.”

He swallowed, hard. Everyone just had to remind him of that. He _knew_ that he was king, and he knew what responsibility that entailed. Thor did not want or need any reminders of his unwanted position. At the same time, there was _nobody else_ who _could_ be king. Everyone else was either… not an option or dead.

“Your safety is of the utmost importance, but…” he trailed, eyes drifting as his lips pressed together into a slight frown.

Loki looked up at him, somewhat bemused. “You want him to _watch me,”_ he noted, then scoffed. “You think I’ll take off with the funds and the shuttle, and abandon Asgard to its fate?” It was less of a question and more of a statement, Thor noticed.

“You will forgive me for any distrust,” Heimdall replied diplomatically. “You hide yourself from my sight even now.”

 _Still?_ Thor thought. The question was bouncing around in his mind, _why are you still hiding? Planning to run away again?_

As if to answer his unspoken question, Loki said matter-of-factly: “If I was going to leave, I would have done so already.” He shook his head, eyes settling on a spot in the centre of the table. “So. Thor is to be my _minder_ then?”

He didn’t miss the disdain on ‘minder’.

Heimdall neither confirmed nor denied that. “Thor will accompany you, and so will the Valkyrie and Doctor Banner.”

“Uh, why?” asked Bruce skeptically, echoing Thor’s thoughts. He was looking at the Gatekeeper strangely. They both were now.

“Outposts such as these often have traders that sell faulty fuel. The shuttle has a device that checks for such things, but it is broken, and—as we are running out of time—you will need to fix it on the way.”

“And what makes you think I can do that?”

“You fixed the water filtration system, did you not?”

Bruce nodded slowly, eyes flickering around the room. He’d fixed their water systems earlier, mentioning something about building one in Kolkata.

“This is similar,” Heimdall explained.

“And the Valkyrie?” asked Thor, trying and failing to keep the apprehension from his voice.

He clearly did not succeed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Majesty.” She shot a pointed glare in his direction.

“Protection,” answered Heimdall, looking at Thor, and ignoring Val. “And insurance.”

“Insurance?”

Bruce spoke up quickly: “If there’s a Hulk-out, she probably has the best chance of calming him down.”

It made sense, in a way. Thor had seen Val and the Hulk interact with each other on Sakaar. The big guy probably couldn’t hurt any of them if he tried, but she still had the best shot at talking him down, or at least preventing catastrophic destruction.

“I did know your greener half for two years.”

“So, it is settled,” the Gatekeeper said definitively. “You will all be going, and I will manage the _Statesman_ until your return.”

* * *

The shuttle was fully prepped and ready to go in less than an hour. Some of the mechanics carefully removed the nearly drained fuel cells from the Statesman’s engines and set them in the shuttle, reconfiguring it to be compatible. They were quick and diligent with a tacit understanding of the importance of this mission. If the shuttle were to run out of fuel in the middle of deep space, they would be completely vulnerable to attack without any weapons systems onboard.

Loki, Val, and Bruce were already on board when Thor jogged up the ramp. The shuttle was similar to the _Commodore,_ but not identical. It was not as eccentric and leaned towards the simpler side with bright lighting, no decorations, and a harsh, cold interior that smelled faintly of rust.

Val was sitting at the front in the pilot’s seat. Bruce was tampering with something on the left wall—likely the fuel tester device—and Loki was seated at a booth on the right, staring blankly at the opposite wall with his elbows on the table in front.

“Ready to go?” Thor asked as he sat beside Val.

Everyone gave a collective nod.

Leaving the _Statesman_ in the capable hands of Heimdall, the dubbed ‘Revengers’ set off on their second mission.

“Ship-control,” said the Valkyrie into a comm. “This is shuttle four requesting permission for exit. Are the air-shields up?”

A choppy voice came over the other side: _“The air-shields are on. You are go for exit.”_

Without another word, Val expertly steered the shuttle out of the landing bay and into the dark of space. After entering their destination on the ship’s system, she swivelled around in her chair and declared: “The autopilot is functional. I’m going to take a nap.” With that, she strode over to the back of the shuttle and lay down on the dreary grey bench there.

It took only two minutes for the silence to become uncomfortable. The hum of the engines droned in the background along with the constant clinking of Bruce’s tools. Thor eventually moved to the booth beside Loki, who looked unusually tense, eyes still glazed over, and fixed on the opposite wall. He was picking at his palms.

Thor watched him warily.

“How long until we get there?” asked Bruce after another few minutes of silence. He twisted one of the tools into the device, then removed it and took out something that looked like tweezers but were longer and skinnier.

Thor got up to look at the ship’s display. “Six hours,” he read. “How long do you need?”

Bruce shrugged. “Honestly, probably only two or three. What are we going to do for six _hours?”_

“And then another six on the way back,” Thor added, mentally groaning. Not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with Bruce and the team, but they never knew what to _talk about._ It made for many awkward and uncomfortable conversations.

The Valkyrie stirred on the bench. “Sleep,” she mumbled half incoherently, then draped an arm over her eyes, rolling onto her back.

Thor could use the rest as well. Being king did not come with a shortage of sleepless nights, filled with organizing rooms and supplies, and planning their journey around more hostile areas of space. He almost wished that the council were here, so he could delegate at least _some_ of the tasks to them. Unfortunately, not a single of the original seven had survived Hela’s slaughter of the populace.

“Sounds good,” he agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

“Doesn’t _someone_ need to stay awake?” Bruce paused in his work for a moment to look between the two of them. “In case we’re, like, attacked or something?”

“Probably,” Thor sighed, sitting back down. As much as sleep sounded _amazing,_ Val had already claimed the bench, and he neither felt like dragging her off of it nor risking a sore neck for the rest of this journey by sleeping in the booth.

Loki pulled a book out of nowhere and leaned forward, resting his head on an arm propped up by an elbow on the table. It looked so _normal_ that Thor had to remind himself of where he was. He was not dragging Loki away from his desk to go on an adventure or practice sparring. The familiarity was still startling.

Bruce went back to his repairs without another word, steadily working at the machine.

They spent the rest of the journey in relative silence.

Bruce finished repairing the device, then started rummaging around the contents of the shuttle, noting rations and different things in the closets. He tired of that rather quickly, then took to watching the stars from the co-pilot’s seat.

Loki read one and a half books.

The Valkyrie snored rather loudly, he learned.

Thor kept his eye on all of them.

* * *

They arrived at a public landing port, Val doing the talking to the controllers on the ground. Bruce watched in utter fascination as the air-shields closed above them and the air pressurized.

“So, we’re _inside_ an asteroid?” he asked excitedly, leaning forward to get a better view out of the front window.

Thor felt like laughing. In good nature, of course. He had always wanted the Avengers to see Asgard, watch Stark show off his armour to the inventors, the Captain impress even the Aesir with his strength and honour, have Natasha meet Lady Sif, and watch Barton challenge the warriors to an archery contest that he would undoubtedly win. That would never happen now, of course, so seeing Bruce marvel at outposts was as close as he would get.

He nodded at his friend, smiling brightly. “We are. I suppose you will get to see a fair bit of space on our travels.”

Val set down the ship on a pad near the centre in a stall that read with bright red letters on the floor, ‘18-V’.

“Is all of space like this?” Bruce looked out the window with slightly parted lips at the dim interior of the carved-out asteroid. The rock of its insides was dark as the halls of the prisons on Asgard, and seemed to swallow the majority of the light.

“Nah,” said the Valkyrie as she opened the ramp. They were immediately flooded with a wave of stifling, stale air. “Just these outposts.”

Thor noticed the heat increase tenfold as soon as he stepped off the shuttle and away from its air-conditioned coolness. Not the kind of heat of Muspelheim where the air tasted of smoke and molten rock. This was air that had been reused over and over and over until it was stale and dead. Which was often the case on deep-space outposts.

Apart from that, it was _dark._ With no nearby sun, and being _inside_ an asteroid, the outpost was lit entirely by electricity, which was nowhere near bright enough for the whole place.

Thor explained further, motioning with his hands: “Most planets lie somewhere between Asgard and Sakaar when it comes to sophistication.”

“That tells me _literally_ nothing.”

“Imagine planets like Earth’s countries,” explained Loki, stepping down the ramp. He inhaled lengthily, looking around at the other ships. “Some nations are quite well off, governed by rulers elected by people. Those generally have a higher standard of living. Others are ruled by those who came into power by force, taking it from others and throwing the country into chaos. As examples: Asgard and Sakaar.”

“Huh. So which kind will we be visiting?”

“Unfortunately, both.”

There was a long moment of silence as they waited for Val, who was still shutting off all the ship’s systems.

“Were your family elected?” asked Bruce with his eyebrows furrowed, and Thor was almost taken aback by the question. He’d never thought of it like that. Elected? It was… a strange thought.

And apparently, an admissible one to Loki, who answered Bruce’s question in great detail.

And so began the longest discussion of Asgardian politics Thor had ever heard. And he had heard a lot on the subject of Asgardian politics as of late.

The Revengers made their way to the small office outside the hangar, and paid the small fee for their stay. Throughout all of it, Bruce asked questions that Thor had never even thought to ask. Which naturally led to more questions. All of which Loki had detailed answers to. He explained the smallest details of interplanetary economies and various little political schemes the councillors had been getting up to while ‘Odin’ was withering in his old age.

“So, wait,” said Bruce, speaking rapidly and moving his arms everywhere as they made their way to the marketplace. It was still some distance away, and the carved-out halls of the outpost were next to impossible to navigate. “Hold up. This chancellor guy, Huren—”

“Hrenn,” Loki corrected automatically.

“Sure, Hrenn. He sent _spies_ after the King? Is he allowed to do that?”

“Well, technically, the ‘King’ was _me_ at the time. He was suspicious. I took care of it.”

Thor stopped in his tracks, paling.

Oh, Norns.

_What else happened while he was away?_

“Loki, what did you do?” he demanded, stepping in front of him with his arms crossed. They stopped moving in the middle of the narrow corridor, but there was no one else in sight whom they would be blocking the path for.

He’d heard many tales from the citizens of Asgard during Loki’s reign, most of which were completely arbitrary. Loki had forged alliances with different empires outside the Nine for _no apparent reason,_ settled on a stable peace treaty with Jotunheim (somehow), and randomly allowed various factions to rebel across the realms without interference despite—for _whatever_ reason—having built up Asgard’s military almost insanely.

The reports ranged from absurd to logical, and Thor had no idea what to make of them. Barriers on the Bifrost bridge, investments in theatre, knowledge exchange programs, all made sense. Those were very Loki things to do. Random alliances, increased military spending, and peace treaties were not.

Assassination, however, _was;_ hence why Thor was more than a little concerned.

Loki startled back, raising his hands. “Absolutely nothing,” he said quickly, innocently. “I placed him at the centre of a public scandal and had him resign from his position, then sent him to Vanaheim as a trade ambassador.” He tilted his head from side to side thoughtfully. “If anything, I saved his life.”

Thor rolled his eye, sighed deeply in relief, and then they kept walking. “Funny,” he agreed dryly. He would have to send someone to fetch him at some point, likely after they arrived on Earth and had somewhat stabilized.

“So, you didn’t just… kill him?” questioned Bruce with no small amount of trepidation in his voice, like just _asking_ would be his end.

Loki looked entirely appalled. “Why, by the _Norns,_ would I do _that?”_

The scientist shrugged, calming somewhat. He made an odd humming noise.

“To resort to tyranny is to admit defeat, in politics. I would have given every member of the council reason to believe ‘Odin’ insane over his own grief. They would have had every opportunity to depose him, and therefore, me.”

There was a long silence as they kept walking through the halls, four pairs of footsteps echoing off the stone. “‘Tyranny is to admit defeat’,” repeated Bruce with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Funny that it’s you saying that.”

Loki shut down _immediately,_ and Thor was not grateful for the lingering silences that persisted as they arrived at the market, which was a chaotic mess of vendors and buyers. Stalls were carved into the rock on both sides of a long hall with tables and booths set up in the middle. There were people of every species in every corner of space, crowding the passageways. 

Swathes of colourful fabric hung over the stalls and booths in what briefly reminded Thor of Asgard’s marketplace. Only, of course, Asgard’s was far more organized, well lit, and… _sanitary._

“All right,” said Thor, looking around at the crowds. The Revengers were standing in a row just outside where the crowding truly began. “Where do we start?”

Loki pointed to the nearest stall. “With that one.”

“Looks like it sells electronics, not fuel cells.”

“Yes.”

Thor shot his brother a confused glance, arching his eyebrow high. “Then why there? Should we not try to find the fuel first?”

Loki shook his head. “Markets on outposts like these have two sides.” He gestured to the mob that swirled in front of them. “One side _that you see…”_

“And?”

“And one that you do not, a less legal side, from which we will be buying our fuel. It is likely to be stolen, but that’s sort of the point.”

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ exclaimed Bruce, stepping in front of them with wide eyes. He did not appear to be on the verge of a Hulk-out, Thor noted, just baffled with a side of _‘we’re-gonna-break-space-laws?’_

“It will be cheaper and far less likely to be diluted.”

Thor stood beside Bruce in front of Loki, joining his side. Buying stolen fuel would land them in prison. Or worse, _dead._ And if either of those two things happened, Asgard was as good as doomed. “Loki, stolen fuel is—”

“Lackey’s right,” Val said tonelessly, staring at them with an annoyed expression. They were both startled by her statement. Hel, even Loki looked surprised, but his expression was closer to bemusement. “It’ll be cheaper, and all due respect, Majesty, we can’t be wasting money right now.”

“So, we’re buying on the black market? Isn’t that more expensive?”

Val shook her head. “No. There’s always the hidden fees that the stall owners put in there to get a little extra. People selling illegally won’t do that ‘cause they don’t wanna get tipped off.”

“And if it’s of inferior quality?” asked Thor, narrowing his eye at her.

It was Loki who shook his head this time. “Again, they do not want to be reported. A bad product is sure to do that. And even though it _is_ illegal to buy known stolen goods—”

_Well, at least he admits it._

The Valkyrie finished for him: “There’s a get out of jail free card if you tip off whatever counts as a police force around here.”

“Safer for them, better for us,” Loki concluded with a grin.

Bruce looked like he was about to rant to them on the dangers of breaking laws in unfamiliar places—which Thor had to agree on—but instead, he only asked: “So why are we going to the electronics store?”

“Because those two—” Loki stared behind them and pointed to two figures, a Xandarian and what appeared to be a human, wearing leather who were entering the store “—are _Ravagers,_ and where do Ravagers get their fuel? From other thieves. Let’s go.”

* * *

Thor honestly had not been sure about bringing Loki on their little mission, to begin with. He would cause trouble, chaos; it was what he _did._ Thor had been half expecting the market to turn into a riot or something after a few minutes _at the most._ But all apprehension faded as soon as Loki started bartering.

They caught up with the Ravagers, and met with the owner of the electronics stall, a species with pink skin that Thor couldn’t name. 

Loki started talking, and in less than a minute, they had a key and a location somewhere deep inside the asteroid from which to pick up the fuel. He asked the vendor where he could find fuel (without directly asking where he could find fuel) and how much that would cost (without directly asking how much that would cost). He implied… something? Thor wasn’t sure. He switched languages four or five times, likely to throw off anyone else in the shop, some of which even Allspeak didn’t recognize. The vendor’s translator did not pick up the difference, however.

They paid less than half of what the shop on the other side of the market was demanding (Loki had Val check their prices for good measure).

In any case, they were now on their way into the lower levels of Ursa-Twelve where crime was common and police less so. It was darker down here, Thor noted. Somewhat warmer as well, though that could just be a result of all the stairs, which seemed to be unending.

The Valkyrie was leading the way with Banner close behind her, and Thor and Loki at the rear.

“See, brother,” said Loki once they were out of the crowds. He looked rather smug. “The ‘black market’ has its uses.”

“I cannot argue that,” Thor replied, huffing lightly. He had to admit it. They had saved a great deal of time and money.

They walked down a narrow set of stairs into a larger hall similar to the one in the market above. The only difference, Thor noted, was that this one was far less crowded, and more hallways were leading out from the sides.

“How did you know about that stuff, anyway?” he asked curiously.

Loki shrugged. “Books? I thought it might be useful.”

“Hmm. For if you want to leave.” Thor looked back to see Loki’s scathing look.

“I am still here,” he replied, poking Thor in the shoulder for emphasis. “And I am not leaving.”

“Even when we arrive on Earth? I don’t want to—”

“You may not have a choice,” Loki cut in smoothly. They’d had this discussion before. It always ended the same way. “Their _price_ may be my eternal imprisonment or execution.”

“And what will you do then?”

“I am not going anywhere.”

“You may not have a choice.” Thor frowned.

Loki sighed and pulled the key from his pocket as he led the way down a narrow hallway, dimly lit by flickering golden lights on each side. The lower levels were completely devoid of life, a stark contrast from the bustling marketplace above. “I don’t,” he agreed. There was a hopeless note to his voice that Thor chilled at. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Bruce and the Valkyrie halted, waiting for the next direction as Loki wove between them.

He turned another corner, to the left this time into a larger cavern, and then cursed loudly, rearing backwards and nearly sending Thor to the ground. Bruce jumped behind Val as she pushed past them, sword in hand. 

And then Loki vanished.

He was gone.

He just—

_What on Helheim, brother._

_Where did you go?_

Thor looked around frantically, scanning the area for any sign of him, but he wasn’t anywhere. There were shadows cast by the lights and the rough rocky walls, but no Loki.

_Damn it._

He had the key too.

_Where did he go?_

Then he spotted it—more accurately, he spotted _him_ —a short distance away in the hall they had just come from. A thin green snake slithered on the stone floor, looking up at him with glowing emerald eyes.

 _“Loki!”_ he whispered at the snake, taking a few quick steps over to it. “What are you _doing?”_

Loki slithered between his legs, hissing softly.

Maybe this was a trick.

“If you’re about to stab me—”

“What’s going on?” asked Bruce, coming up from behind him. He noticed the snake, pointing down. “Is that…”

“Yes.”

Val joined them a second later. “Is he a snake?” she asked, squinting at Loki through the dark.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Thor threw up his hands. _You tell me._ “I don’t know.” He looked down at Loki, who was now wrapped around his right ankle a little too tightly for comfort. Something… something was _wrong._ “Brother, change back. What’s going on?”

Slowly—very, _very_ slowly—he unwound himself from Thor’s feet and shifted, but not back into himself. Instead, it was the face of one of Asgard’s engineers that Thor saw; light brown hair, and a build that closely resembled Fandral. And he was _shaking._

“Look around that corner again,” said Loki in a voice that was not his own. It sounded shaky, fragile. _“Very carefully.”_

Bruce, being the closest to the corner, peeked around, saw _something,_ then jumped backwards with a curse. “We’re dead,” he bleakly declared to the group. His eyes were frantic, mouth slightly agape in panic. “We’re dead. We need to get off of this stupid hunk of rock _right now.”_

Thor heard Loki’s quiet, “Agreed,” as he looked around the corner himself. It took a moment, but then he saw it. There were two Chitauri soldiers standing guard in the cavern. It was less crowded than the one on the upper level, and far dirtier. He could pick them out easily, and once he noticed, they were _everywhere,_ walking between people and standing guard at major entrances.

“Damn it,” he swore, turning around to Loki, who had not shifted back, and to Bruce, who looked awfully close to shifting into his other self, and _that_ was definitely for the worse. The Valkyrie was in front of him, telling him to breathe. Her demeanour of calm seemed to rub off on him because the vein of green in his neck faded back into his usual skin tone.

When everything was once again relatively calm, the Valkyrie stepped away and looked out. She turned around and said: “I don’t see anything. Will someone _please_ tell me what the _Hel_ is going on?”

Loki shifted back to his usual self (though Thor did not think it was intentional) and sank to the ground, back against the wall with his legs curled up against his chest. Thor knelt beside him, trying to understand what he was saying, but Loki wasn’t making any sense. His fingers were sharply digging into his arms, and when he tried to get him to stop, Loki flinched back violently.

His breathing was thin, coming in short bursts, and Thor had _no idea_ what to do.

“Lackey, what’s happening?”

Bruce swallowed, hard. “Those were Chitauri foot soldiers,” he explained nervously, voice quieter than usual.

 _“And?_ So what?”

Bruce retold the story of how the Avengers were formed between heavy breaths. At the end of his tale, Val only turned to Loki and asked with a look that was somewhere between confusion and anger: “You tried to invade Earth? _Why?”_ They were surrounding him now, blocking the view of any potentially prying eyes. Not that there were any. The area was relatively quiet and devoid of life.

He seemed to shrink into the wall further. The first _coherent_ thing Loki said was, “There was no better option.”

Wait. _What?_

“What do you mean, ‘there was no better option’?” Thor pressed, sitting on the floor beside him. That didn’t make any sense. It _didn’t._ Why—

“I fell through the Void, and _they_ found me— _shaped me._ I thought—I thought that…” he trailed off, eyes glassy and unfocused. “I had a plan. There was a plan. To steal their Sceptre, hide the Tesseract, and _get out.”_

_“—shaped me.”_

_“—and get out.”_

_“I had a plan.”_

“Brother—”

“And it worked,” he laughed, madly. _“It worked,_ and now they have found me again, it seems. It was safer playing dead. Should have stayed _dead.”_

“Brother, are the Chitauri looking for you?”

He shook his head frantically. “Not the Chitauri, no. Their _master.”_ His voice quivered at the final word.

“Thanos,” the Valkyrie breathed, stepping back with the realization, and Loki _flinched._ “He—” she cut herself off, staring into the dark stone.

_Thanos._

_The Eternal._

_The Mad Titan._

_Death’s Lover._

_The one who seeks the Stones to slaughter half of the universe._

There were stories. Not many, and never consistent in their telling, but there were tales of how Odin had banished Thanos from the Nine years before Thor’s birth. Which explained the Valkyrie’s reaction. Hela would have been alive at the time. The Valkyries would have fought in that battle. Would have fought the Chitauri, and Thanos’ other forces.

And he—

Loki was _terrified_ of him.

Why?

Everything always circled back to that question with Loki.

_Why?_

“Loki,” Thor began calmly, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Loki did not seem to notice that he had. “Why would he look for you?”

“Because he promised that if I failed, there would be no place I could hide. I… I let the realms believe I was dead, spread the word of it.” _The theatre,_ Thor thought with something of realization. It was something Loki would do, he had imagined, but this was something else entirely. The plays weren’t just self-indulgence (really, he should know by now that Loki rarely does anything for the simple sake of self-indulgence), they had a _purpose._

“Only, now with your reveal… He must have realized the deception. And I did fail, which was the plan. He _knows._ He _knows_ that was the plan because he was _watching._ We have to _go.”_

Thor met his pleading green eyes that were just _begging_ to get off this outpost. Loki was _scared,_ visibly _scared,_ and that _did not happen._ At least, not according to what Thor saw. Loki would not show that he was afraid. There was anger, and there was grief, but never _fear._

_“—steal their Sceptre—”_

_“—did fail, which was the plan.”_

_“He was watching.”_

The pieces clicked. The brief moments of lucidity amidst the chaos, the crazed laughter, the obvious plan, the lack of resistance after—

Bruce noted aloud with wide eyes, and a breathy voice: “The Sceptre—it was controlling you too. And the Hulk…”

Loki nodded once, still trembling. “Not the same as the others, but yes. It changed… not only loyalties, but… _memories.”_

_“I remember you tossing me into an abyss!”_

Thor had thought, _no, he let go,_ but he ignored it. He _ignored it_ and—

“It showed me… _things,_ different possibilities; what could have happened, and—” he took a shuddering breath “—I still don’t know sometimes. _I still don’t know.”_ Loki looked up at Thor, face pale and eyes full of nothing but panic. “I had to piece together what happened on the Bifrost from records, rumours. I’ve no definite recollection of the events that actually transpired on that night. I think—I _think_ that I let go, but there are so many more where you…”

_“I remember you tossing me into—”_

“Where I did,” Thor filled it with a sigh, then dropped his head. There was a faint scent of ozone in the air, and he quickly realized it was _him,_ fingertips sparking with little flickers of electricity. Before they could trail up his arms, Thor got his lightning under control, pushing the magic down, which was much harder than it used to be. His vision was blurring as tears welled in his eye. “I am sorry, brother. I should have—” he ran a hand over his face “—I should have noticed. _I’m sorry. I’m so—”_

Val placed a firm hand on his shoulder, leaning down; it was—oddly enough—grounding. “Majesty, we need to get the fuel cells and go.” She looked between the three of them, expression only radiating concern, which Thor had never seen before from her. “Will they recognize you?”

“Not me,” said Bruce. “The Other Guy was doing the fighting for most of it. Thor… likely not with the eye and the hair, but…”

“I agree,” she said, nodding. “Better not to risk it. We can get the fuel. La—Loki, Highness, where’s the key?”

Loki raised a shaking hand, summoning the key from his little space-pocket-thing. The Valkyrie took it without hesitation, and strode away with Bruce on her heels.

Then they were alone.

“Do you think they saw us?” Loki asked with a thin voice.

Thor tried not to shiver at the sound of it. He did not quite succeed. “You shifted quickly. I do not believe so.” He rested a hand on Loki’s knee. “You’re fine. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

 _“Nowhere_ is safe from him. You don’t understand. He’ll—”

“He will have to go through me.”

“He _will.”_ Loki rose on shaking legs, balancing on the wall. “He _will_ go through you,” he repeated, voice steadying a fraction. “And I… I can’t let that happen.”

“And I will not let him hurt you again,” Thor promised, holding onto Loki’s arms. “I _won’t_ let him.”

Loki buried his face in Thor’s chest as he breathed deeply, and Thor ran his fingers through Loki’s curly hair, whispering words of assurances occasionally. Like that, they waited until Val and Bruce returned, each holding two bags filled with fuel cells.

Val set hers on the ground, leaned against the wall. “How are we going to get back?” she asked.

Bruce put his down as well, straining slightly with the effort. Thor could understand; fuel cells easily weighed as much as ten pounds each, and carrying a whole bag full would be strenuous, to say the least. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “There weren’t any Chitauri on the upper levels, just down here, which is _really_ weird.”

“I think the real question is, are they after _you.”_

Loki tensed beside him; disbelief written over his features. “There is no other explanation. He would not command control of a random outpost for another reason.”

“But if he was after you,” said Thor, realizing the conflict, “why send them down here and not at the landing bay where we entered?”

“Or take the shuttle before we landed,” Bruce suggested, gesturing randomly with his hand. “There are easier ways than _this.”_

“I don’t think they’re here for you, Lackey,” Val concluded with a light shake of her head. “I think they’re looking for someone else, and I don’t really care to find out who. Shall we?” She motioned to the path they had taken earlier.

More cautiously than before, the Revengers retraced their steps, keeping the fuel cells close to their bodies as they wove through the crowds and avoided detection. They took back routes in the maze of the inner asteroid and became abjectly lost _twice_ before they reached the landing bay.

They were looking out a viewing window slightly above where all the ships were, scouting for any hint of the Chitauri. There was only a small group of ragtag… Thor thought they were Ravagers, but they didn’t quite fit the description. In any case, they were all out sprinting to an orange ship on the far end.

“Her,” said Loki, pointing to the group. “The Zehoberei. He’s looking for her.”

“Why her?” Val asked, staring at them with narrowed eyes.

“She was his daughter.”

Thor had a million questions and then some swirling in his mind but decided not to voice any of them. Not now, they had bigger problems.

“You were right,” Loki continued distantly, looking the Valkyrie in the eye. “He was not here for me.”

“He probably doesn’t even know you’re still alive.” News of Asgard’s destruction would spread fast, but any details remained solely with the survivors, all of which were aboard the _Statesman._ “Then we can go,” said Thor, relief flooding into his voice. He nodded to their shuttle, which was completely untouched and waiting for them.

“After we test the fuel cells,” Bruce added with a pointed finger.

They made their way down to the landing bay entrance through another labyrinth of dark corridors. The Valkyrie talked to the manager, who granted them permission to take off. She lowered the ramp as they got close, and then something in the air _shifted._

Thor saw a flash of purple light to his right, and instinctively lurched out of the way. Loki yelped beside him, falling to his knees, and Thor noticed the Chitauri soldiers that were now charging in on them from all sides.

_That’s blaster fire._

_Loki got shot._

Val swore loudly as the Chitauri opened fire on both them and the shuttle.

They needed to get out of here _now._

She pulled out her Dragonfang.

The landing bay descended into utter chaos, people screaming, Chitauri roaring, and the Revengers scrambling for the shuttle before someone got the idea in their head to blow it up. That would doom them.

Thor summoned his lightning, letting it course through the metal landing platforms and vaporize the Chitauri hiding behind crates and other ships. Some of the crates exploded. Some of the ships exploded. Some of the _Chitauri_ exploded, all with shrill screams, which Thor could take some sort of twisted satisfaction in.

It felt good to set his lightning loose after bottling it up for so long. Like a pressure in his chest had been released, and now he could finally breathe.

In less than a minute, the whole place smelled like burnt flesh.

He was so focused on just keeping them at bay that he didn’t notice Bruce beginning to turn green until he was already partially transforming.

_Damn it._

Val, evidently, noticed too, and stopped slashing through the soldiers for a moment to calm him down. Thor couldn’t hear what she said over the noise of everything else, but the green faded somewhat. Bruce ran up the ramp, then, carrying the bags of fuel cells in his arms.

She returned to the fighting a moment later, sword in hand.

Loki was still on the ground, holding his hand to his shoulder.

They needed to _go._

But the Chitauri just kept coming.

And coming.

_And coming._

An unlimited supply of soldiers that came from halls and passageways hidden by the shadows of the asteroid. Their numbers started to thin, and eventually, none were coming close enough for the Valkyrie to slice them in two. She sheathed her sword and bent down beside Loki, draping his arm around her shoulders, and dragging him up the ramp.

“Majesty!” she called to Thor, who was still taking out the Chitauri all around the shuttle from a distance. “Let’s go!”

Thor sent out one last burst of lightning, unintentionally collapsing part of the ceiling, and ran up the ramp as the blasts continued to hit the sides of the shuttle. Val was at the front in the pilot’s seat, Bruce was breathing hard, sitting at the booth, and Loki was lying down on the bench in the back. As soon as the ramp lifted, they were off the ground and heading through the air-shields with blaster fire still rocking the ship.

“Do we have all the fuel cells?” Val called over her shoulder.

Thor took a quick glance around the shuttle. The bags were beside Bruce, all accounted for. “Yes,” he answered, kneeling in front of Loki, who managed to prop himself up slightly on his elbows. “Brother,” whispered Thor.

The leather of Loki’s tunic had been completely burnt through on his right shoulder, revealing a blistering scorch mark beneath it.

_Oh, no._

_No, no, no, no, no._

“Hurts,” Loki managed through clenched teeth. His expression was tight, eyes shut closed and forehead wrinkled. “They saw—”

“I know.”

Loki balled his fists and the wound glowed with a green light for a moment.

 _Healing magic,_ thought Thor, but then it faded and the burn was still there.

“Can’t—” Loki gasped in something of an explanation. “Can’t focus. They saw. They _saw me.”_ His eyes opened wide, green, piercing, and above all, _fearful._

“I know. Just breathe. It’s fine,” he reassured, fully aware that everything was _not_ fine. Thor rested a hand on the back on Loki’s head, running his fingers through his now tangled hair, trying to get him calm. Calm meant focus, which meant his magic might be able to take care of the wound. It didn’t look fatal.

Probably.

Loki made a strangled sound. “They know I’m—they know—” He hissed again, sharply inhaling in short bursts.

 _“Breathe,_ brother.”

Simply put, Loki did not breathe—not properly, at least—for some time. He mumbled; coherent maybe half of the time, but that was being generous.

Val piloted the ship, every so often shooting the three others worried glances.

Bruce no longer looked to be holding back the Hulk. Any trace of green in his veins had faded and been replaced by his usual serenity. He got up from the booth and started to walk over to the bench. “Loki,” he said, warily lowering himself down to Loki’s right side. “Can you look at me?”

Loki did not look up at him, but opened his eyes a fraction, then a little more.

Bruce managed to examine him, somewhat, then said frantically: “He’s going into shock. Thor, talk to him.”

“About what?”

“Doesn’t matter. There are some medical supplies in the back.” Bruce rose to find the supplies, disappearing into the tiny back room that served as storage.

“Brother, Bruce is a healer. He can help you.”

Loki laughed, but it sounded more like he was choking. “I should have stayed on Sakaar.” The words weren’t directed at Thor, but at _himself,_ the older noted.

Thor shook his head, letting his hand fall to Loki’s left shoulder, the uninjured one. _Keep talking._ “I am glad you came. Without you, Asgard would be gone. _All of us_ would be dead. You are her saviour, remember?”

“And now all of us are as good as dead anyway,” Loki huffed. “I should have _stayed on Sakaar.”_

“Highness,” said the Valkyrie, shouting over her shoulder. “You’d be dead if you stayed.”

“You don’t _know that,”_ Loki shot back. “I could—”

Val scoffed, cutting him off: “You weren’t going to last much longer, and you know it.” She sighed loudly and somewhat remorsefully from what Thor could tell. “Believe me, nobody up there lasts more than a few months tops.”

Wait.

_‘Months’?_

_But Loki said he’d been on Sakaar for weeks when Thor got there._

That didn’t make any sense.

“Loki, how long were you on Sakaar?”

His head rose from where it was tilted down into the bench, eyes looking up chidingly. “Is this _strictly relevant?”_ he asked, lips thinning.

Maybe not.

Bruce emerged from the closet carrying a rectangular metal case a moment later. He knelt beside Loki, and opened it to reveal a collection of gauze, tweezers, and other… things. Thor had no idea what half of it was. The Doctor looked at the wound, narrowing his eyes at it.

“I’m going to need you to take off your shirt,” he declared after a moment, pressing his lips together. “I can’t see it well.”

That was not going to be fun. Thor could not see any straps or buttons or anything that would make it easier. His Sakaaran leathers were tight against his skin, and he could only imagine what would happen if they tried to pull it off. Besides that, Loki would probably stab them if they cut away the fabric—not that they had anything with which to do that.

_Joy._

_The hard way it is._

Thor managed to get some of the thin metal plating off, but that did not at all help with the leather. “Give me your arms, brother,” Thor said after doing a double-check for any buttons. To his great disappointment, there were still none.

“Why?”

 _Norns,_ did he have to make things difficult _still?_

“Unless you can magic away your shirt, we’re gonna need to pull it off of you.”

Loki did not embarrass himself by trying.

A great deal of struggling and a barrage of remarkably creative curses later, it was off. The blaster wound was larger than it appeared, and steadily leaking blood, which tainted the air with its coppery tang. 

And then Thor noticed the—

“It was real,” he breathed in realization, mouth parting in open astonishment. There was a long jaggedly raised scar over Loki’s back, less than an inch from where his heart would be. Thor couldn’t see his front, but he could imagine a similar one marking his chest. “It was—”

 _“Again,”_ Loki interrupted harshly, still gasping. “This is _not relevant.”_

Then Thor saw the others, mostly faded, but very much _there,_ and unrecognizable. They were layered, crisscrossing, and deformed. Most looked like burns, which made a sickening sort of sense.

_Thanos._

Thor was going to kill him.

Decidedly, _not_ painlessly.

Bruce frowned at the scar but returned his attention to the shoulder wound, which was still lazily oozing blood. “It needs stitches. Can I—”

“Do what you have to,” Loki sighed, resting his head on the back of his right hand.

He stayed incredibly still throughout all of it, face twitching, but otherwise completely motionless. Thor momentarily thought him dead again, but no. Loki had survived being _impaled;_ he would survive a blaster wound.

Thirteen or so stitches later, Loki’s breathing had evened, and his eyes had slipped shut again. Sleeping, then. That was good, at least.

Thor waited until Bruce had finished cleaning and packing his supplies (which took much longer than he had been expecting) before going to sit at the booth with the Valkyrie. The Doctor returned the case to its place in the storage closet, then joined them again a moment later, sparing one glance at Loki before doing so.

“He’ll be fine,” Bruce said reassuringly, clapping Thor lightly on the shoulder. “You guys don’t die very easily, do you?” He took a seat on Thor’s other side, sandwiching him between himself and the Valkyrie.

Val smiled and rolled her eyes a little. “Not really, no. We can even survive in space for a few hours or so.”

 _More than a few hours,_ thought Thor. Loki survived the _Void._

“And being impaled, apparently,” Thor added, sighing in the face of his own exhaustion now that the adrenaline had mostly worn off. He was _tired._ He had been awake for who knew how long, and sleep sounded incredibly tempting.

The Valkyrie soured at that. For what reason, Thor did not know. “Not always,” she corrected bitterly. There was a haunted look in her brown eyes that made Thor’s stomach twist. “Not always.”

Bruce hummed soberly, leaning back into the booth. Thor supposed he knew about surviving the impossible as well. Being the Hulk.

They all knew a thing or two about surviving situations that typically entailed certain death.

Thor followed suit in attempting to relax, eye wandering around the shuttle for something else to talk about. He didn’t truly feel like it; he wanted to _sleep._ Regardless, they landed on the bags of fuel cells that were pushed against the wall, likely moved by the Valkyrie to make room on the booth. Speaking of which…

“Hey, did we test the fuel?”

“Oh,” said Bruce, eyes widening almost comically. “No.”

Val cursed harshly, and got up from her seat, taking the bags to the other side of the shuttle for testing. She obviously knew how to do these sorts of things because, after only a little shuffling, she figured out the system and had all the cells going through the machine systematically.

“It’s good,” she announced, and they collectively released an enormous sigh of relief. The thought of returning after… Thor did not want to think about that.

“How did we forget to check that?” Bruce asked, sighing breathily. His face was scrunched up tightly.

Val shrugged, then crossed her arms over her chest. “We were busy.” She dragged them over to the storage closet, and unceremoniously dumped them on the floor.

“That was the entire reason why I came.”

“Yeah, and you were busy.”

Bruce cast his gaze downward, defeated. Val was right. They had more pressing matters to deal with first. Like being shot at. Like getting _shot._

Val retook her place on Thor’s other side. They fell into those dreaded awkward silences again, and Thor felt himself nodding off, eye drifting close as…

Everything turned to nothing.

He slept.

* * *

Thor was jostled awake by the shuttle landing.

“Welcome home,” Val called. She was sitting in the pilot's chair again; had probably moved while Thor had been asleep. How long had it been?

Bruce was bent over on the table, arms tucked under his head like a pillow. He was still sleeping, hair a complete mess, and breathing evenly. Thor imagined, though, that the scientist was going to have some aches after sleeping like that.

He took a look around the shuttle, spotting his brother at the back. Loki was sitting upright and awake again, which was probably a good sign. Only ‘probably’ however, because he was holding onto his shoulder with his left hand, and wincing slightly. So, there was no way that was healed yet.

Thor rose slowly as Val got up from her chair and strode across the shuttle in only a few steps. She woke Bruce with a light shake to his shoulder.

Bruce, voice still slurred with sleep, asked: “Where are we? What happened?” He lifted his head and looked around rapidly.

“We’re on the _Statesman,”_ Val answered, tugging him to his feet. Bruce eventually regained his footing enough to stand on his own. “Can you grab the cells?”

He nodded groggily, but trudged over to where they were kept in the storage closet. 

Loki tried to stand, then evidently thought better of it, and sat back down, grimacing slightly with the movement. Thor rushed over to his side, and wordlessly offered a hand up. He took it, and Thor draped Loki’s good arm over his shoulders, letting his weight lean onto him. Just like—

“We are _not_ doing ‘Get Help’,” Loki declared, recognizing the somewhat awkward position. His voice sounded unnaturally fragile.

Thor stifled a laugh, but he couldn’t quite mask his smirk. _Trust Loki to make light of any dire situation._ “You need it, brother.”

“Throw me, and I will stab you.” _And threaten bodily harm, apparently,_ despite hardly being able to move.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Heimdall was waiting for them as they stumbled down the ramp, expression neutral. The fuel cells were carried between Bruce and the Valkyrie, who were looking rather worn. Thor was shouldering most of Loki’s weight, tired to the bones himself. They all needed rest. Not… whatever splices of sleep they got aboard the shuttle. They needed _sleep._ The Gatekeeper appeared in need of the same. “I take it things did not go to plan,” he noted, somewhere between amused and concerned.

“Not exactly,” Thor replied with a sigh, letting his face fall. “We were ambushed.”

“By Chitauri,” Val added, setting the bags on a wheeled cart off to the side. Bruce did the same.

Heimdall, looking awfully suspicious, looked to Loki, who was attempting for the second time to stand on his own. It was not working in the slightest. He let out a long sigh before admitting regretfully: “I could not see them either.”

_What?_

But Heimdall could see everything. Why not the Chitauri?

“They know how to hide,” Loki answered through partially clenched teeth. “As I know. It is not too difficult.” The pointed jibe hit its mark, and Heimdall’s expression spasmed.

_They know how to hide._

Thor felt another twist of guilt in his stomach as he realized the second meaning of Loki’s words. They hid from Heimdall’s sight after he fell. It was how he could never see him. How Mother was firmly _convinced_ that Loki survived, but none could prove it.

Everything was clicking into place, and Thor did not at all enjoy hearing these revelations. He _was_ —in a way—glad that he knew the truth now. More guilty, however, that he had not known before. Had not thought to _ask._

Why, _by the Nine,_ had he not thought to ask?

The Loki that showed up on Midgard was not _right._ He was hurting, and desperate, and trying so hard to do the right thing. And all Thor had done was fight him, show aggression—the one thing he could always be counted upon to do. He had been too stupid—no. That wasn’t right. He had been _angry._ Angry, and _unwilling_ to see that anything could be amiss. He was _angry_ because it was Loki who had forced him to destroy the Bifrost, and then leapt from—

No.

He was not about to blame him for that too.

“We need medical,” said Bruce abruptly, startling him out of his thoughts.

Heimdall nodded solemnly. “They are on their way.”

The journey to the tiny medical bay was done in complete silence. Loki allowed what few healers remained to whisk him away on a floating metal board, which alone spoke volumes about his state that he was not objecting to such treatment. He fell asleep again in minutes. 

Thor did not leave his side.

Bruce followed, somewhat warily, asking if he could do anything to help.

“The thought is appreciated,” said the chief healer, completely calm despite the hectic situation. Thor supposed that was a rather normal quality of healers. “But unnecessary. Seiðr can repair any damage that Loki’s natural healing has not already done.”

The Valkyrie also followed them, but at a distance, keeping one hand on her sword, and the other by her side.

In the medical bay, the healers worked on Loki’s shoulder, periodically asking the rest of the team if they had any injuries. The answer was no, but they continued asking, familiar with Thor’s self-destructive habit of hiding injuries beneath a casual smile. He had done as much with the wounds from his battle against Hela, concealing them for a few days while he sorted out affairs on the _Statesman._ It seemed that now they did not trust him. And that distrust extended to the rest of the team as well.

They were given a small room after they were done, a simple one with four walls, a door, and no windows. Thor, having slept on the shuttle, amazingly did not curl up on one of the chairs to the side of the room to sleep. He briefly stopped by his quarters to pick up a few housing records, then returned to the medical bay, which smelled strongly of disinfectant. He mulled over the living arrangements while Loki slept beside him.

Bruce talked with some of the other healers, eventually slipping away to tend to some other minor injuries that had occurred aboard the ship in their absence.

Val stayed awake with him, keeping an eye on the door as she paced across the room.

Thor idly wondered how long she had been awake. He doubted she had slept on the return journey from Ursa-Twelve, or that she had slept for a considerable period before then besides her brief nap on the shuttle previously. “Do you sleep?” he asked, hoping that it did not come out too bluntly.

She shrugged and halted her pacing to sit opposite to Thor. “Sometimes,” she answered with a slight frown. “On Sakaar… you learn to not need sleep.” Val leaned back in the chair, relaxing a little. Thor thought it might have been the first time he had seen her do so. Almost like an afterthought, she added: “Or you die.”

Umm. What?

Thor squinted at her, thoughts spinning behind his narrowed eye. “What do you mean, _‘or you die’?”_

“You don’t live long? I don’t know. It was never my thing—the Grandmaster’s parties and all that. Politics _._ But it wasn’t all fun and games, y’know?” She explained hesitantly, frown deepening: “There were assassinations, poisonings, random executions; the Grandmaster likes to keep people on their toes. It’s what he does.”

She looked at Loki with something that almost resembled consternation, and threw up a hand in his direction. “He was good at it. Politics. Made it to the top in less than a week. But you only had to look around a little to see that he had a big target on his back. Wouldn’t have lasted much longer, I think.”

Oh.

_So that’s what they were talking about earlier._

And Loki had wanted to stay in _that,_ because… why?

_“I should have stayed on Sakaar.”_

To avoid the Chitauri.

To avoid Thanos.

He would have preferred—would have _stayed there,_ because he thought it would be better than the alternative.

“Do you think we were followed?” he asked nervously, changing the subject.

Val shook her head slowly, expression easing. When had she become tense? “No. I don’t. Easier to attack a shuttle than a big ship, right?”

Thor let them drift into silence, focusing on his papers. There was still a minor housing crisis even though they had organized everyone into rooms within the first week. Some neighbours didn’t get along. Others… got along too well, and kept up parts of the ship with their gatherings. He was glad that they could find some enjoyment despite all that had happened, but it was a problem. Sometimes.

Then there was the food, which was always going to be a problem. However, now that they had the fuel cells, it would not be long before they could make it to a planet and trade what they could for supplies. Foremost among them, medical equipment, and food.

According to the sorcerers on board, between them, they could continue replenishing the water supply for a few months before… something magical happened. The water lacked… flexibility? Or malleability? Thor wasn’t sure. He had stopped listening at that point because the magical reasons were entirely beyond him.

There were other things too. Like how the engines were old and in constant need of repairs. How some areas of the ship were completely closed off because they did not have the right access codes. How there were a seemingly infinite number of parents without children and children without parents.

In some ways, Thor still felt like one of those children. Not four years earlier he’d had his mother, his father, his realm, his friends, his _place._ Hela was not… _real._ She had never existed, and he was Odin’s firstborn, his _heir._ It seemed as though everything had fallen to pieces in the blink of an eye.

It made a sort of sense now—how Loki seemed almost satisfied that Thor had to go through a life-shattering revelation. Everything about himself he had been so sure of had vanished in a snap. The murals on the ceiling crumbling to the floor. It was all a lie. 

And it made so much sense. And at the same time, so _little._

He went back to the papers, letting the words and numbers consume his thoughts. There would be time to dwell later.

At some point, he heard snoring—the _Valkyrie’s._ She was sleeping in the most uncomfortable looking position possible on the chair. Her feet were propped up on the side of Loki’s cot (which was more like a metal slab), and her head was tilted back over the seat.

Thor smiled at the sight, then returned to work.

It was probably hours later when Loki woke up. Thor didn’t know; he wasn’t keeping track of the time. But ‘hours’ was probably a fair guess.

“Hello, brother,” Thor said brightly, smiling. He set the papers on the table to the side. “Sleep well?”

Loki just groaned in response, and shifted so that he was facing Thor with clear green eyes. The movement must have nudged Val’s foot because she was awake and standing in a second.

“What time is it?” she asked, blinking the fog of sleep from her eyes.

Thor shrugged, unsure himself, and let her look around the room for any indication. She found none, clearly decided that she didn’t care enough to leave the room for an answer, then slumped back into the chair.

“Lackey.” Val leaned forward, watching Loki with narrowed eyes. “You good?”

He tilted his head in a little ‘so-so’ gesture. “Better than earlier.” 

_That’s really not saying a lot,_ thought Thor with a frown that Loki didn’t see; he was looking at Val now.

She nodded once, and looked… Thor wanted to say relieved. “Good.” Her gaze travelled to the far wall, to Thor, then back to Loki. “Can’t have you dying, Highness.”

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “I shall try.”

The silence persisted again. _Norns,_ they were _awful_ at conversation. When had that become the case? Thor had always been skilled at making friends. Now it was just… he didn’t know how to _talk_ to them. What did they even _have_ to talk _about?_

“Thank you.” Loki’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and unwavering, unlike before. He was looking at Val again, sincerely. “For pulling me aboard the shuttle. I don’t think I would have…” he let the thought trail off. “Thank you, Valkyrie.”

Visibly taken aback, Val looked at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Whatever she had been expecting, it obviously wasn’t gratitude. The two had shown each other nothing but hostility since Thor had _known them._ “Of course,” she replied with no small amount of reluctance, from what he could tell. “Asgard can’t have the entire line of succession die on one mission.”

They sat in complete silence for another moment, filled only with the sounds of breathing and the light background noise of the medical bay.

Val abruptly said: “Brunnhilde.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Brunnhilde,” she repeated louder, this time to the both of them. “My name’s Brunnhilde. It’s about time that I start using it again. I think.”

Thor smiled, only barely managing not to show teeth.

Loki looked rather surprised, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Thank you, then, Brunnhilde.”

She poked at his side. “Don’t get sappy.” Val— _Brunnhilde_ —stood quickly, and made her way to the door. “I’m getting drinks. We all deserve drinks after whatever the Hel _that_ was _.”_

Thor was not about to object to that idea. He turned to Loki, happy for the short moment of privacy they had been granted, but he made sure his expression conveyed the gravity of what he wanted to say. “Brother—”

“Can it _wait?”_

“—We have a lot to talk about,” Thor finished, ignoring him. “I know that our family has…”

Loki filled with a wry smirk: “Never been one for open communication?”

Thor nodded, agreeing more than ever in light of his newfound knowledge. “Yes, that. But I think it’s time we… fix that. How many of our problems could have been prevented if we had just _talked_ to each other?”

Loki frowned deeply at the rhetorical question, and sent Thor a withering look that made his spine go stiff. What had he said? “You mean to ask how many problems could have been prevented if I had told you what happened?”

“Don’t twist my words. You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he agreed, and Thor took some satisfaction in that. “But _when,_ brother? When would we have talked? There was no _time.”_

Thor sighed, then said mildly: “I don’t mean to blame you. I know I have not always been… easy to speak with, have not always made myself available—” Loki scoffed at that “—but you never said _anything,_ not even in your own defence at the trial—”

“What _trial?”_

Thor blinked and startled backward. _‘What trial?’_

Before he could get a question out, Loki sat up and continued: “There was no _trial,_ and even if there were… none would have believed anything I said. There was no _opportunity_ to explain, so I did not.”

Every time he thought that the puzzle was complete, dozens of pieces were added to the pile. Only now were they starting to fit together consistently.

Loki was not simply spiteful over imagined slights; he was _furious_ because Father had not thought to give him even a—

And so, he sent him to Earth. To die. Because Odin had not even bothered to grant him a chance to speak in his defence.

Thor had been told there was a trial.

_More lies._

_Never-ending._

_Just over and over and over._

_Like layers of paint._

_One coat of red covering another._

Was there anything else he didn’t know?

At this point, did he _want_ to know?

The door opened to reveal Brunnhilde walking in, somehow carrying four bottles of liquor of varying colours in two hands. Bruce and Heimdall were not far behind. The former looked entirely uncomfortable in the room of Asgardians. The latter displayed no emotion whatsoever, golden-orange eyes seeing far beyond the walls of the _Statesman._

“I got drinks!” she announced cheerfully, then looked around the room with a baffled expression. “But forgot the cups.” Brunnhilde set down the bottles on the side table, and darted out to go find some. Or perhaps steal them from some unsuspecting citizen. Thor did not, in all honesty, care too much at this point.

She returned in less than five seconds, which Thor thought was rather impressive. Bruce held the glasses as she poured generous amounts in four glass cups. She looked to Heimdall, who nodded, and then poured a fifth.

“To a successful mission,” Thor toasted, raising his glass. _With no small amount of difficulty,_ he added within his mind.

The others rose theirs as well and drank to it with various cheers going around the circle.

“To Ursa-Twelve,” added Brunnhilde, face cringing at the awful taste of whatever poor-quality liquor she had managed to find. “May we never see another trash heap trading post like it again.”

They drank again, chuckling a little. Thor did not feel like spoiling the mood by mentioning that they would probably see many more similar outposts.

“To Brunnhilde of the Valkyries,” said Loki, giving a stretched smile. “Who is most likely the only reason the rest of us are not currently dead or otherwise stranded on said ‘trash heap trading post’.”

She downed the rest of her drink, and laughed heartily when her cup was empty.

“‘Brunnhilde’?” asked Bruce, face scrunching.

Right. They hadn’t told him.

“My name,” she explained simply. “But if it’s a bit long, Val’s fine too.”

“What about Brunn?” Thor suggested, topping off his glass, and moving to refill Loki’s. But no. He had already conjured more with magic. Because of course, he had.

“Brunn,” she tested hesitantly, then nodded, smiling slightly. “Sounds good.”

* * *

Loki was fine and walking around again the next day. Thor told himself he wouldn’t hover. And he tried not to. With varying degrees of success.

Brunnhilde had not yet returned to her usual routine of drinking herself into a coma in the early morning, so Thor took that as a win. 

Bruce was with the engineers, figuring out a way to make the fuel cells more compatible to get the most juice out of them.

Thor was standing in front of a window, looking at the stars. Out there, somewhere, was Earth, which he hoped would greet them with open arms. There was little reason to believe they wouldn’t. It was Loki he was concerned with. They both understood the possibility of what could happen when they landed.

It scared him to no end. He had _just_ gotten Loki back after _years_ of believing him dead. Thor was not keen on losing him a third time. The problem came in the form of their abject lack of a plan. He’d thrown around some ideas, but nothing really seemed to stick. The only real option was… hope that the humans would give him a trial. And if that happened… 

The plan could be described as ‘shaky’ at best. ‘A complete wreck’ at worst. Or perhaps ‘nonexistent’. Yes, that might be closer.

As for Bruce, his support would count for a lot, Thor thought; unbiased and mostly unaffiliated as the scientist was. The Doctor of seven PhDs was excited to be home. Journeying between alien planets and through deep space for a few weeks was ‘fascinating’, as he put it, but Thor could recognize the signs of homesickness in his friend. He saw them in his people. He saw them in his brother. He saw them in _himself._

But Asgard was gone—no more than rocks drifting through space.

_Asgard is not a place, it’s a people._

A people who were _also_ drifting through space. How very fitting.

Some days, he thought, _this is manageable. I have everything under control._

Other days, like that of their mission to Ursa-Twelve, everything seemed to be falling apart. Like there was nothing he could do about it. Like he was scrambling for the pieces and trying to snap them back together. Like he was utterly _hopeless._

Thankfully, this day was one of the former. He had spent the better part of the morning (or whatever counted for morning in space) with Heimdall, Loki, and a few of the engineers, trying to figure out a path towards Earth through the safest territory but without going too far out of the way. It was difficult, but they had a plan now, and that eased his mind considerably.

Thor was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t recognize Loki’s presence until he was right beside him, staring out the same window with a glazed look in his eyes. “I… wanted to apologise,” he said softly, gaze flickering around without pattern.

Thor’s eyebrows lowered as he asked: “What for?”

Loki swallowed deeply, and shifted his weight. “I know I have not been… trustworthy… for these past few years. Or… open.” He breathed through his nose a few times before going on: “But I think… I would like to amend that.”

Thor could not contain his grin, which spread widely from ear to ear. “I would like that as well.”

He nodded, quite soberly. “There is something I need to tell you about,” Loki said slowly, carefully, “but I don’t know if I _can.”_

A small and mostly tired part of his brain felt like complaining: _what now?_ But he refrained from voicing it. “Loki?”

“I’m afraid you’ll hate me for it, brother.”

“I won’t.”

“You _will,”_ Loki differed, voice thin. His hands were in front of him, fingers picking anxiously at his palms. “You _will,_ and I don’t know if I can break what little trust we have left.”

“Then you don’t need to tell me _now,”_ said Thor, trying to reach for some middle ground.

Attempting to pry information out of Loki was like pulling teeth. His curiosity and foreboding sense of unease were driving him up the wall, but the part of his brain that had changed so much since his banishment insisted that demanding answers was sure to fail. 

“I won’t hate you, and I won’t force you to tell me now. But perhaps before we reach Earth?”

_No more surprises._

“That sounds agreeable.” His hands dropped to his side, and his eyes drifted out at the stars before he asked: “Do you really think it's a good idea to go back to Earth?”

“Yes, of course,” Thor replied lightly. “The people of Earth love me. I'm very popular.” He smiled to himself at the little jab.

Loki did not at all seem to find it amusing. “Let me rephrase that. Do you really think it's a good idea to bring _me_ back to Earth?”

“Probably not, to be honest,” Thor granted, sighing. But they had months between now and their arrival. They would think of a plan, find other options, do what they did best. If it came to it, Thor loathed to admit, they could always settle elsewhere. Earth did not have to be their permanent home. “I wouldn't worry, brother. I feel like everything's gonna work out fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cue _Sanctuary II._
> 
> I now have [a Tumblr](https://sundial-at-night.tumblr.com/) where I'm going to do a few comments on fanfics.
> 
> I also have [a Revengers board](https://www.pinterest.ca/Sundial_at_Night/revengers/) for a little compilation of fanart.


End file.
